The Apartment Chronicles
by HeyStasia
Summary: Teenage AU: Craig is turning 18, and Kenny, the only kid in town he truly considers a best friend, gives him the greatest birthday present that he could receive. Hints of Crenny. T for language and hints of adult themes.
1. Happy Birthday, Craig

I walked to his front door and rang the bell. "Hey, Ruby," I said to her when she opened the door, "Craig's home, right?" His car _was_ in the driveway.

"Yea, he's here. He's in his room," She turned to yell up the stairs, "Craig! Kenny's here!"

"Ruby, stop yelling! It's 10 AM, dammit!" We heard her dad yell from another room.

Ruby turned around and flipped her dad off from where ever he was. Then Craig came down the stairs, phone in hand. He came over, messed up his sister's hair and said "Thanks, Rube," before she grabbed her phone and went upstairs herself.

"You're coming with me," I told him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him out the door.

"Dude, what the fuck, hold up," He stammered out as he resisted.

I let go, realizing I forgot the most important part. I took a bandana out of the back pocket of my jeans and started toward Craig, ready to cover his eyes. I probably should've told him what I was doing, considering he freaked out. "Kenny, what the fuck are you doing."

"Craig, your 18th birthday is tomorrow. I got you something, but it's a surprise."

"So you gotta blindfold me?"

"Yup. And it isn't with me, so I gotta take you to it."

"Oh," He said, hesitant and confused, "Alright then. Let me get my keys."

He went back inside and I waited for a couple minutes, then Craig came back out and locked the door with said keys. "Alright, you gonna blindfold me now you kinky fuck?"

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I know what you did with Jessie. That shit gets around."

"Who fuck told you?" SHE was the one who wanted to try that shit, not me. It was a one-time thing!

"You did," He said, starting to laugh, "You were high."

"Oh, shit, I did?"

He was smiling, "Yea, man. But don't worry; I haven't told a soul."

I gave a sigh of relief and that made Craig laugh again. "Blind me, man," He said, arms out.

I tied the bandana around his eyes and pushed him toward my truck. I don't think he was expecting that because he almost fell forward. "Dude, chill."

"Sorry, man," I said. My guiding was more… gentle from then on.

Since I backed into his driveway, I could easily lead him to the passenger side. I opened the door for him and said "Okay, we're at my truck now. The door is open, so you can get in."

He seemed nervous and was flailing his arms around trying to find something stable to hold on to. I laughed a bit and decided to help him out. I took his hand and put it on the truck, and then did it again with the other hand. "Thanks man," He said, smiling.

Once he was in, he was fidgeting finding the seatbelt and struggled to buckle in. It was super funny, actually. I closed the door for him, walked around to the driver's side and got in the car myself. I started it up and told Craig he could relax for a while. This is something I've been excited about for months and I can finally tell Craig. Well, I can show him. It's definitely more of something to show.

After driving for about five minutes, I pulled into the parking lot of the Phoenix on the Fax apartment complex and parked the truck. "Can I get my vision back?" Craig asked

I chuckled and said, "Yea, man, take the thing off."

He pulled the bandana off of his face and was confused. "Why are we at the new apartment complex?"

I took a key out of the pocket of my hoodie and said, "I live here now, man."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious?"

"Yea man. Apartment 206."

"You're so lucky," Craig said in awe, "What a place to get away from your hell hole house. So is whatever you got me in your place?"

I took another key out of the pocket of my hoodie and tossed it to him. "Happy Birthday."

Craig's jaw dropped and I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. "No way," Craig said, staring at the key, "No fucking way."

"Yea, man," I said, taking the keys out of the ignition and opening my car door, "Come on, let's go see it."

I don't think I've ever seen Craig so excited. He bolted out of the car and I locked it behind us. I led him to the building. His eyes widened and he said, "Damn, this place is NICE."

I took his shoulder and led him toward the mailboxes. "Check this out, dude."

"K. McCormick," Craig read, "And C. Tucker?!"

"Yea, man," I confirmed, "The paperwork is official and everything."

Craig ran his hand back through his hair with this look of pure astonishment. "So this is what you've been saving your money for?"

I nodded yes and added "All those tips from the past year and a half. That's why I've been so eager to take on those large parties."

"Kenny, you're the fucking best," Craig said with the most genuine happiness I've ever seen.

I pat his shoulder and told him it was no problem at all. I took him to the elevator and we went up to the second floor. "The place came with a kitchen, bathroom, cable, internet AND wi-fi and a bedroom with a huge-ass closet," I told him as we walked down the hall.

"One bedroom?" He asked

"Yea, just one," I said as I stopped at door 206, "But we can alternate who sleeps on the couch."

I opened the door and watched Craig's face get even bigger. I truly have never seen him so happy. A lot of my shit was already in the place, so that helped with the cozy-factor. He went inside and began exploring. "Welcome to casa del McCormick y Tucker," I proclaimed

"This kicks so much ass!" Craig said with pure joy.

"Dude, I already told Karen that if she has any trouble at home, she can call me and then I'll come get her," I added, "So if you want to do the same for Ruby, go right ahead."

"That sounds like a fantastic idea, Ken," He said as he walked toward the balcony door, "I just can't believe this is real."

"Believe it, man," I said, going toward him, "We're actually free, just like Kyle and Stan and Clyde and Token and all those other bastards going away to a four-year school."

I gazed out the glass door and felt Craig turn his attention to me, so I looked back at him. He looked like he was so happy he could cry. He threw himself at me, arms around me in a strong hug. "Thank you so much," He said, muffled in my hoodie, "You have no idea how much this means to me."


	2. Medication

"Fuck you, ass hole," Craig said, smiling. I just won a round of Super Smash Bros and I kicked his ass.

"Take me out to dinner first, damn," I said, punching him in the arm. We laughed for a bit, "Want any food?"

I got up from the makeshift couch composed of solely pillows and headed toward the kitchen. "What do we have?" Craig asked, pausing the game, "Do we still have pizza rolls?"

I opened the fridge and the only things inside were a six pack of Budweisers and some water bottles. Oh. I opened the freezer and it was literally empty. Shit. I searched through the cabinets and found them all to be completely bare. "We have zero food," I called back.

"Can you go get some? I'm thinking about crashing early tonight."

"Yea, sure," I pulled out my phone and started a new note, "What do you want other than pizza rolls?"

"Hot Pockets, fries, pasta, some sauce for said pasta, soda, those microwave sandwiches you got last time, and get some ice-cream, dude. I've been wanting ice-cream for days now."

I put all that on the list and added stuff of my own: microwave veggies (we have to _try_ to stay healthy), sandwich ingredients, cereal, milk, pop-tarts, chips, salsa, maybe some fruit and cookies if I have the cash. "I'm gonna want some money, man," I told him.

Craig groaned and got up from the floor, pulled his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and took a twenty and a ten from it. "Will I get change?" He asked

"Maybe," I said, knowing I'm annoying him.

"Will I need to entertain you to get the money?" He asked in a 'jokey-flirty' tone.

"Sorry, I don't have any ones."

"Bastard," He smiled at me before I grabbed my keys and hoodie off the hooks and left the apartment.

When I got back, my arms were aching from carrying four full bags in each of them. I struggled to get the proper key into my hand and then to open the door. "Craig, you lazy ass, come help me," I said as I got in.

"Kenny! I missed you, man," He slurred his words as he stumbled toward me. There was a beer can in his hand and it was spilling on to the floor. He grabbed on to me and tripped over himself trying to keep his balance.

"Craig, let me go," I said as I attempted to break free to put the bags of food in the kitchen.

He did let go, but a couple seconds after he did, he almost fell completely on the ground. He caught himself on the closet doorknob. I put the bags down sloppily on the counter and immediately opened the fridge. The six-pack had been opened and only one can was left. Time to be concerned. "Craig, put that down."

"Put what down?" He said, laughing between his words.

I took matters into my own hands. I practically bounded towards him and took the can out of his hand, spilling it all over myself. He tried to stop me by grabbing on to my jacket, but I just took the hoodie off and made a bee-line for the sink, dumping the rest of the booze in. I didn't even care what he was crying out. I turned to the fridge, grabbed the other beer, opened it, and dumped that, too. I could hear Craig practically in tears on the floor, "No, Kenny, stop! I need my medicine!". I crushed the can in my hands and slammed them both into the trashcan.

When I was able to look at him again, he was in a ball on the floor, holding my hoodie with all his might, crying into it. He looked like a goddamn child crying into an orange teddy bear. It was pitiful and heartbreaking. I sighed before I walked toward him and bent down to get to his level on the floor. "I don't know why you're so shit-faced, and I know you're too drunk to tell me," I started rubbing his back. I know what Craig gets like when he's wasted, "You really should just get some sleep. Come on."

I reached out my hand to him. He looked up from the hoodie, tears starting to dry, smiled and attempted to grab my hand. It wasn't very successful, so I took his hand for him. "I'm going to pull you up with me now," I tried to be calm and gentle with him, "Ready? One, two, three—"

And on three, I pulled him up and he was slipping and falling. I changed my positioning so that I had Craig's arm around my shoulders, making it easier to guide him to the bedroom. "You're so fucking nice, Kenny," Craig spat out.

"Thanks."

"No, like…" He had a drunken thinking face to ponder his words, "No wonder girls dig you so much. Being helpful is sexy as shit, man."

"Just get in the bed, Craig."

He kinda just fell onto the bed and then rolled over a bit. "Kenny," He said, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide from the high.

"Yes?"

"Get into bed with me, man."

"I need to put the food away—"

"Please? I just… I just…" He gagged a bit before saying anything else.

I sighed "Sure, fine," And lay next to him, "Just don't puke on me, okay?"

"You don't understand, Kenny," He rolled over some more and was closer to me. He was in more of a fetal position and his head was on my chest, "It's like my favorite thing about you. You give a shit about me. No one else does, but you do, man!" He laughed after that last one.

I do give a shit about him. I give one hell of a shit about him.

I kinda just started to just stroke his hair. It was something that I found comforting, so maybe it could get Craig to calm down and go the fuck to sleep. I watched as his eyes slowly started to close and his body relaxed. I smiled when he started to smile. I lay with him, continuing to stroke his hair, relieved that he was actually falling asleep. I saw him slowly breathing, and I was comforted knowing I could comfort him. I waited about five minutes to make sure he was truly sleeping. Once Craig was out, he was out until he heard an alarm. I slowly shifted myself away from him, watching him carefully to make sure I didn't wake him. I sat on the side of the bed, looking at him and his pitiful person. I ran my hand through his hair again, and I caught the right corner of my mouth smiling at him. And I decided to kiss his forehead. It was an impulse, but one that I wasn't exactly expecting. I thought '_Oops I have frozen food that needs to be put away_,' and darted into the kitchen.

Once everything was in its proper place, I collapsed on to the pillow-couch. I checked my phone, but as I was about to put it away, Craig's phone vibrated. It was next to me, and I glanced over to the screen. It was a text from Ruby. All I read was "Mom and dad fucking suck, I know…"

It got me worried, so I picked up the phone and read the text in full. The last words were "Please tell me you're okay". Ruby texted him other times, too. "Craig, are you okay?" "I heard them yelling" "Craig answer your phone" "Craig?"

My eyes widened and my mouth was agape. I went to his recent calls. Three missed calls from Ruby Tucker, two from his mom and three from his dad. What the fuck happened while I was gone? There was a voicemail from Ruby. I had to listen. "Craig, don't listen to Mom and Dad. You're eighteen now, so you can do whatever you want. I trust you to be okay, so please don't do anything stupid… I love you, okay? I'm just really worried about you now because you're not answering my texts… Please call me back… Bye…"

Damn… I still don't know the entire story, but it seems like Craig's parents don't approve of him living on his own. I don't know what words were said to cause him to drink pain away, and I don't know if I'll ever find out. I thought about it for a bit, and I decided to text Ruby back. She's the only other person in his life who truly cares about him, and she's probably worried sick. "Hey Ruby, it's Kenny. Craig will be fine. He's sleeping now. Don't worry."

I left his phone on a pillow and went back into the bedroom. He was still sleeping. I slowly went to the other side of the bed, took my headphones off of the side table and lay next to him, staring at the ceiling. I plugged the headphones into my phone and set my alarm. I didn't move in my sleep, so the headphones would stay in overnight, and only I would hear it go off. I looked over at him and just started feeling awful for him. I mean, I had a pretty shitty home-life growing up, but I still felt bad for the one he had. I got a bit closer to him and put my arm around him. He startled me when he kind of snuggled in. His head was by my chest and I started brushing my hand on his back, and I fell asleep with him.

I woke up the next morning in the exact same position I was in the night before: my arm around Craig, Craig snuggled against me. With my free hand, I turned off my alarm. I looked over at him and smiled. He looked a more at ease. But I had to get to work. Craig's going be hung over like mad, so I decided to help him out. I called our supervisor. "Yes, Kenny?"

"Morning, sir," I said to him as I walked over to the closet, "I'm just calling to tell you that Craig is too sick to come in today. He's puked like twice now."

"Telling me he was sick was enough information, Kenny," He was annoyed, whoops, "And will _you_ be coming in today?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, I'll see you at nine."

I got a white button down shirt and some black pants from the closet, went into the bathroom, did my morning routine, changed, and proceeded to the kitchen. I grabbed some of the poptarts I bought yesterday, ate them, grabbed my hoodie and keys off of the floor and left for work.

I got a call from Craig while on my lunch break, smoking out back while eating McDonald's. "Hey, Craig, how you feeling?" I asked when I picked up.

"Like shit, man. What happened to me?"

"You drank."

"A lot?"

"Like 85% of the beer in the fridge."

"That's a new record," He said, laughed, and then cried out in pain, "Shit, it hurts to laugh."

"It's cool, man," I took a drag from my cigarette before continuing, "Just stay in bed, drink water and eat some stuff; I covered for you."

"Thanks, Ken," There was silence for a moment before he finally said, "Thank you for caring. I really do appreciate it. I'm sorry you have to deal with my bullshit."

"It isn't a problem, man. I promise."


	3. Pick Your Battles

Day six in the apartment: we still can't afford a god damn couch. Our money has gone toward food, rent and a TV. We each have forty dollars in each of our pockets: twenty for food and twenty for gas. Luckily, we get paid this week, so we won't be _as_ desperate for money, and _maybe_ we'll have a couch by the end of the month.

Sleeping on the floor kinda sucks. A lot. When you use your dirty ass sleeping bag that you've had since you were twelve as a mattress, only a couple blankets and a single pillow, you probably won't get the best night's sleep. My shoulder blades dig into the wooden floors of the living room; I've woken up with a bruised back every time I've slept on the floor because I end up rolling off the fucking sleeping bag. Granted, I've only slept on the floor twice now, but regardless, I don't think it's going to get any easier.

I've been in a constant state of trying to fall asleep, going on my phone to pass time until I'm tired and repeating the process. Occasionally I actually get some sleep, but I jolt up every time I roll over. This is a horrid existence. Maybe if I just snuck in to the other side of the bed and woke up before he did I could get a good night's sleep without him noticing I was even there. I took one of the blankets and the pillow and crept down the small hallway. I slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door even slower. I was on my toes, elongating my stride, being so careful to not make a sound. Craig was on the side of the bed closest to the door. Dammit. I had to creep even more. Just fucking dandy. I felt like I was taking hours to get to the other side of the room. Long, slow strides, only on my toes, being careful not to drop my phone, or anything else for that matter. When I finally reached the side of the bed, I leaned down to slowly position myself onto it when I heard "Kenny, what the hell are you doing?"

"Shit," I stopped frozen in my tracks.

"I've been awake this whole time," He rolled over to face me, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Craig, I don't wanna sleep on the god damn floor. It hurts like hell. You won't even know I'm here."

He sighed as he rolled over to face the ceiling, "Fine, sure."

"Thanks, man," I said as I got in.

I rolled over so I'd face the wall opposite of him, closed my eyes and tried to sleep. However, after a couple minutes, Craig started to talk to me again. "Kenny?"

"Yeah?"

"The other day- when I almost drank myself sick—why did you stop me?"

I rolled to face him. He was still looking at the ceiling. "Because I didn't want you to drink yourself to death."

"You know I drink to feel better—"

"No, I didn't," I stopped him, "I knew you smoked for that shit; I had no idea about the drinking."

He was silent. He exhaled before saying "I don't understand why you deal with my bullshit. You really don't have to."

"I care about you, man. I get it: self-medication may feel like the only answer, but it really isn't. Trust me: it hurts others more than you think."

Craig turned his head to look at me. He had this confused look on his face. "Since when did you drink?"

"I don't."

I've slit my wrists. I've seen what too much alcohol can do to people. The McCormick household is a constant battle of drunken father, drunken mother and drunken eldest child. I only touch the shit for 'social occasions'. Bleeding away the pain seemed like a better option than a potential liver failure. My triceps were the canvas, anything sharp (knives, razors, scissors, even god damn pencils) was my brush, my blood was the paint, and I could make a studio anywhere. The clean up was easiest in the bathroom, but I felt more at ease in my room.

I remember once in the middle of class I just felt like a waste of human life and I hid the mechanical pencil's powerful strokes under my desk as I kept a straight face during a lecture on the mechanics of light.

Once, I stared dead ahead as Mom, Dad and Kevin were consumed by liquor at the dinner table. Karen's knife dug into her turkey as she tried to drown them out, but she caught a glance of me in a practically catatonic state. I could've sworn she didn't notice that _my_ knife was digging into my arm. I eventually felt the blood drip more and more, so I shoved my jacket's sleeves back down, stuffed the knife in my pocket, and excused myself from the meal. Once the door to my room was shut, the knife came back out. I sat on the edge of the bed, rolled my sleeves up, and I guided the blade across my already stained wrists. There was no emotion on my face, but I felt like I was draining an already empty glass with every slice.

And suddenly, the door creeped open. The knife fell from my wrist, but not out of my hand. It was Karen. "Kenny?"

As she walked toward me, her eyes grew wider and her jaw slowly dropped and her hand crept to cover her mouth. I was too empty to see what I was really doing to her. "Kenny… drop the knife."

I didn't listen. I stared at her, completely in a trance. "Kenny, please listen to me."

I still didn't listen. And I didn't move. I just stared. "God dammit Kenny, please listen to me!"

She choked out all her words. She fell to the floor. She clutched on my knee for some kind of support. "You're the only god damn person who cares about me in this house; the only person with sanity—the only one keeping me alive—and now you're trying to fucking kill yourself? Answer me!"

But I couldn't. I wasn't responding to her crying and screaming on the outside, but inside, I was bawling with her, I was just too dead to let it show. "Kenny," Karen finally said in between sobs, "I need you. Please…"

She fell from her knees and on to the floor, curled into a ball, her face in her hands and her hands in her knees. There were no words, no screams, just the tears of my baby sister who thought she was fighting a losing battle. It caused me to stop staring into nothing, and to look at her. I held everything in as much as I could, but it was no use. It broke me. I had fought to keep her safe for so many years, and when it came to be her turn to fight for me, she didn't think she could win. The knife fell from my hand and the clanging hid the sound of my initial outburst. I saw the blood on my wrists drip to the floor as tears rolled down my face. The two youngest McCormicks sat broken together, praying to never fall apart again.

I imagined what would happen if it were Ruby walking in on Craig binging on booze. The reactions would probably be the same. That's what I tried to explain to him. I can only hope it got through his head.

**A/N So this is the last part I made for my Creative Writing final. (Yes, I submitted SP fanfiction for a grade come at me) Tell me if you want more stories from the McTucker apartment!**


End file.
